


Just The Same

by phichithamsters



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Otabek Altin, Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt and comfort and hurt again lol, Hurt/Comfort, JJ / Otabek, JJ / Yuri, M/M, Mild mentions of, Unreliable Narrator, make-up sex, otayuri - Freeform, post-nut clarity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 11:36:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19375921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phichithamsters/pseuds/phichithamsters
Summary: Yuri was screaming at him. In person. Not over the phone or through a screen or behind a bubble with three dots that promised venom, but in person: angry and gut-wrenching and venomous nonetheless.--A lot of things could be solved if Yuri and Otabek just talked to each other, but unfortunately, the two of them have always had terrible timing.





	Just The Same

**Author's Note:**

> You ever hear a song that breaks your heart so much that you have to write about it?  
> This fic was inspired by the song Just the Same by Bruno Major. [You can listen here.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3klUX10v6g4)

        There was that time when Yuri called him at 2:30 in the morning, and even though Otabek had been fast asleep, he picked up the phone anyways because he never missed an opportunity to talk to Yuri. At first, Yuri’s voice came through the phone, muffled and distant but then Otabek heard the scratchy sounds of fabric so he was about to chalk it up to a butt dial and hang up the phone, when he heard Yuri laugh and then another voice speak, deep and seductive. Otabek listened as Yuri’s laughter turned to breathless moans and eventually he heard the phone clattered to the floor, and that’s when Otabek abruptly hung up. 

        He laid in bed, awake and half hard and ashamed, and trying not to think about the shape of Yuri’s mouth, or the way his cheeks flushed, and most definitely not thinking about Yuri naked, pressed up against a counter or table or bathroom sink or wherever he was with a man that wasn’t him. And then he tried not to think about how desperately he wanted to be that man.

— 

        There was another time, during Yuri’s first competition after he turned 18, when Otabek took Yuri out to a club and they got drunk together for the first time to celebrate their silver and bronze medals. They took shots at the bar, and danced with drinks in both of their hands until their clothes were sticky and sweaty. On the walk back to the hotel, Yuri had kissed Otabek passionately and then threw up on a sidewalk. The next morning, Otabek woke up to three new messages from Yuri. 

 

> 8:35am: **_I have the worst fuckjng headache_ **
> 
> 8:35am: **_this is ur fault_ **
> 
> 8:36am: **_what happened after we left the club??? I blacked out and can’t remember how i got home fuck_**

— 

        And then, there was one time, when Otabek was visiting Yuri in St. Petersburg and he needed to borrow a jacket, so he was rummaging through Yuri’s closet when he found a shoebox labeled with his name, tucked away behind a pile of sweaters. Otabek never was one pry into other people’s personal lives, but he was overtaken by curiosity and so he checked the door to make sure Yuri was out of sight, and then opened the box carefully. It was filled with a random assortment of items, like tiny motorcycle figurines with the names places Yuri had competed in the past few months, or a photo of the two of them on the back of his bike, printed out and framed, or two rings in a velvet box that looked a lot like the ones that Viktor and Yuuri wore— 

        “Otabek! Did you get lost? Hurry the fuck up, we’re going to be late!” Yuri called from the other room, his footsteps growing louder as he stomped over to his room.

        Otabek stuffed the items back into the box and quickly shoved the box under the pile of sweaters where it was hidden, and grabbed the first piece of clothing he saw.

        Yuri peered through the doorway, raising one eyebrow.

        “I didn’t think cheetah print was your thing, Beka,” Yuri teased, smirking. Otabek gave him a tight-lipped smile and put on the loudly patterned jacket.

        “Just trying something new. Also, it’s impossible to be late to a zoo,” he said as nonchalantly as possible. Yuri scoffed.

        “At least you’ll match the cheetahs, dumbass.”

— 

        There was another time when Yuri flew into Almaty to visit Otabek for what felt like the first time in years but it had only been a month since the last time they saw each other at Worlds. Yuri was shifting in his seat, nervous to see Otabek but more nervous to bring up their kiss, the one he told Otabek he had been too drunk to remember because he was scared of ruining their friendship. He couldn’t sit still and kept checking the time, looking out the window, and he was the first person to stand up when the seatbelt signs turned off, even though Yuri hated those people. He waited for Otabek to find him at the luggage pick up, but when Yuri spotted him, Otabek had his arm around a woman with dark hair and a wide smile. Otabek had wanted his girlfriend and his best friend to get along so badly that Yuri spent most of the week third-wheeling and generally feeling sick to his stomach. Yuri left a day earlier than planned, claiming that Yakov wanted him back on the ice.

— 

        And then, there was the time when they were just drunk enough to make bad decisions but not so much that the floor spun or the world looked hazy, and Otabek and Yuri fucked for the first time on a mattress on the floor because Otabek hadn’t bothered to buy a bedframe yet. In the heat of the moment, Otabek thought he heard Yuri call out Victor’s name in a broken voice as he came. Otabek swallowed sharply. 

        Yuri didn’t notice.

— 

        Nothing compared to this time, though. This time they were fighting, really fighting, and it was all teeth and anger and regret, and Yuri was screaming at him, in person. Not over the phone or through a screen or behind a bubble with three dots that promised venom, but in person: angry and gut-wrenching and venomous nonetheless.

        “I didn’t think you’d care,” Otabek growled, narrowing his eyes.

        “Why the fuck wouldn’t I care, Otabek. You’re my best friend and you hide something like this?” Yuri shot back.

        “It’s not a big deal. You’re overreacting.”

        “Overreacting?” Yuri shouted, his eyes wild. “You want to fucking go there? Just because I can actually express my emotions instead of pushing them down and not fucking feeling _anything_ , I’m the one that’s crazy?”

        “That’s not fair,” Otabek whispered through clenched teeth. He stared at Yuri with hard eyes.

        “You know what? I don’t give a fuck what’s fair anymore.” Yuri closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, exhausted from arguing.

        “Why him, Otabek. Please, give me one fucking reason.”

        “You did too.”

        “BUT YOU WERE THERE FIRST!” Yuri screamed, his voice cracking with exertion. “You know how much I cared about him and it didn’t even occur to you to tell me that he was still fucking _obsessed_ with you?”

        “Are you fucking kidding me?” Otabek lost his temper and stood up from the couch. “I didn’t tell you to protect you, because I knew how much you liked him and I didn’t want to ruin that.”

        “To protect me?” Yuri laughed mirthlessly. “Fuck you, Beka. I’m going for a walk. I can’t be around you anymore.”

        “Where are you going to go? You don’t know the city,” Otabek asked, mostly to himself. He knew Yuri wasn’t listening and so he sat back down and buried his face in his hands.

        “Anywhere but here,” Yuri said tiredly, grabbing his coat from a chair. He had his hand on the doorknob when Otabek spoke up.

        “You think I like hearing you talk about him? Have you ever considered that it hurts to listen to you falling in love with someone else?” Otabek said quietly, not looking at him.

        Yuri paused, and then opened the door and walked out into the cold night.

— 

        When Yuri got home, Otabek was still sitting on the couch in his living room, a pained expression on his face as he scrolled through his phone. Otabek stood up quickly when he heard the door open and Yuri stepped in, his eyes and nose red from crying.

        “Yura, I’m so sorry,” Otabek began, wanting so desperately to wrap his arms around him but too afraid that any sudden movement would send Yuri scattering back out into the night. Yuri looked so fragile and broken where he stood, right inside the door. He hadn’t taken off his shoes and was looking at the ground.

        “Yura…” Otabek repeated his name. “Can you… can you come over here? I want to try to explain myself.”

        Otabek motioned to the spot next to him on the couch. Yuri slipped off his shoes and wiped his nose. He walked slowly towards the couch, but he didn’t take a seat; instead Yuri just stood in front of Otabek, far enough away that Otabek couldn’t pull him into his arms but close enough to smell the cheap vodka on Yuri’s skin. Otabek didn’t ask.

        “I wanted to say that I’m sorry for not telling you about JJ and me earlier,” Otabek said. Yuri tensed up when he heard JJ’s name but stayed silent. Otabek continued.

        “When we met in Canada, I was just coming to terms with the thought that I might like boys the same way I liked girls, and I had a thing for JJ. We were friends for a while but that summer during the off-season we started, um… trying things out. I was always more accepting of it than he was, and as I got more comfortable identifying as gay, or bisexual at the least, JJ, on the other hand… he pushed himself further into the closet. We would only hang out at night because he didn’t want to even be seen with me. He was so ashamed— he was so ashamed of me.” 

        Yuri wasn’t looking at Otabek, but he could hear the agony in his voice which was barely above a whisper.

        “By the time he started dating Isabella, he had stopped talking to me completely, and then I moved away. Whenever we crossed paths at skating competitions, he would always text me or pull me aside or follow me to a club to, just like, mess around in a public bathroom or whatever. And I let him, and I enjoyed it, even though I knew it was so wrong… God, it was so fucked up. 

        “I finally broke it off after the Barcelona Grand Prix, where he told us he was planning to marry Bella. I told him I couldn’t get between them anymore and… I guess he never got over that.”

        Otabek paused, trying to give Yuri the space to respond; however, Yuri still wasn’t saying anything so Otabek continued on.

        “I didn’t tell you about JJ because I was ashamed. I wasn’t… I wasn't trying to protect you,” he admitted. “I was selfish and didn’t want you to know about that fucked up piece of my past and all of the mistakes I made with him. I thought that, maybe since his divorce, JJ would be better to you than he was to me, but, god, that’s not an excuse. I’m so sorry, Yura, for hurting you.”

        Otabek leaned back on the couch, exhausted from the exertion of vulnerability and talking so much. Yuri took a deep breath and sat down on the couch and Otabek could see Yuri was crying silently. Otabek’s heart broke at the sight and he resisted the urge to put a hand on Yuri’s knee or reach over to comfort him. When Yuri finally spoke, his voice was low and hoarse.

        “We’ve always had terrible timing, haven’t we Beka?” He chuckled sadly, tilting his face toward Otabek.

        “What does that have to do with me not telling you about JJ?”

        “It’s not about JJ, Beka. It never has been,” Yuri snapped. “You didn’t tell me because you didn’t want things to work out between me and him. You sabotaged the chance of our relationship, knowingly or unknowingly, because you have feelings for me,” Yuri said angrily. He was starting to get worked up, and his words came spilling out faster and faster as he spiraled.

  
        “I can’t fucking believe you. I waited for you for _years_. I tried to get you out of my head by fucking random strangers but none of it even compared to how I felt just fucking sitting next to you.

        "And, god, we even had sex, and _still_ nothing came out of it!” Yuri yelled. “We never even fucking talked about it! Because you never fucking talk to me about anything!”

        Now Otabek was the one to sit silently, his jaw clenched.

        “But god forbid, I finally get over you and now you want me? What a _fucking joke_.”

        “I didn’t ask you to wait for me,” Otabek whispered.

        “Yeah, that’s just the problem,” Yuri closed his eyes. “You never fucking asked.”

        The two men sat in silence on the couch for a minute, neither saying anything. Eventually, Yuri broke the silence. 

        “It’s been a god-awful night. I’m going to bed,” Yuri said shakily, wiping his eyes. He got up from the couch and walked into the guest room. After he closed the door behind him, Yuri collapsed onto the bed and sobbed softly until he fell asleep, still wearing his clothes from the day.

        Otabek listened to Yuri cry himself to sleep from the living room. After a while, he got up and walked to his bedroom, turning off the lights behind him.

— 

        The next morning, Yuri woke up at 7:00am without an alarm. His vision was blurry and his body ached and his head was swimming from dehydration and the vodka shots he’d taken, one after another, until his pain had faded into a dull ache at the back of his mind and he began to forget the reason he was so worked up in the first place. He had stumbled out of the bar, earning him a concerned look from the bartender but the cold, lonely walk back to Otabek’s place had sobered him up just enough to make tears leak from his eyes even though he wasn’t quite sure when they started.

        Yuri peeled himself out of bed, to the disdain of his pounding head, and changed out of his jeans that he had fallen asleep in. He barely registered the imprints the denim had left, red and raw— _hah, wasn’t that ironic_. He slipped on a fresh shirt and sweatpants and took a breath to steady himself before opening the door and walking out into the apartment.

        Otabek sat at his kitchen counter, reading something on his phone. When he heard the door open, he looked up and made eye contact with Yuri. Yuri could see the dark circles under his eyes and the matted hair that indicated that he hadn’t slept well either. Otabek pursed his lips and waved his hand over two plates in front of him as a greeting. Yuri walked over to see that Otabek had made eggs and toast for breakfast, as well as coffee that was still steaming in a ceramic mug. A peace offering.

        Yuri sat down, the scrape of the stool echoing around the otherwise silent apartment. He mumbled a quick thanks before taking a sip of the coffee which immediately eased the pounding in his head. He looked up at Otabek, who hadn’t touched anything on his plate.

        “You said last night that you wanted to talk about it. So let’s talk,” Otabek said, his expression unchanging. Yuri sighed.

        “What ever could you be referring to?” he replied, trying to bite back his sarcasm and stabbing his eggs. Before he could appreciate the small gestures Otabek was trying to show him— the breakfast, the talking— Yuri wanted to hear him say it.

        “The time we had sex,” Otabek said in a low voice, wanting to add _and you moaned Victor’s fucking name,_ but he kept his mouth shut. Yuri stabbed at his eggs on the plate.

        “There’s not really anything to talk about anymore,” Yuri said. He wanted to snap at Otabek or shoot back a snide remark, but he simply didn’t have the energy. He was tired of fighting; he was not giving up, but he was so damn tired of fighting. Otabek ran a hand through his hair.

        “Well, you said you wanted to talk about it, so I thought…” he trailed off.

        “Are you that fucking thick, Otabek? Jesus Christ,” Yuri’s fork clattered onto his plate. “We had sex and it blew my fucking mind because it was so good and I was finally getting what I wanted. But I woke up alone the next morning, and you barely even looked at me the entire rest of the trip,” Yuri’s voice cracked as he fought back tears. “I was so fucking happy and then... And then you didn’t even look at me.”

        “You didn’t bring it up either,” Otabek whispered, as if that was an excuse. He felt his stomach drop as he watched Yuri try to regain control of himself even though he began to cry and couldn’t catch his breath.

        “I’m not the one on trial here, Otabek!” Yuri choked out between sobs. “All I wanted was you, Otabek. No matter what you did to me or how much you broke my goddamn heart, all I’ve ever wanted was you.” Yuri buried his face in his hands and whispered,

        “It’s always been fucking you.”

        Otabek winced and turned his head to look at Yuri. He forced himself to watch Yuri cry, like some sick, sadistic punishment for making Yuri feel this way. Every bone in his body wanted to reach out and wipe Yuri’s eyes, run his fingers through his hair and calm him down by whispering “it’s okay, Yuri, it’s going to be okay” in his ear, like he did many times on the phone when Yuri called him in a panic. But all Otabek could do was watch, watch as tears streamed down his face and the way he just let them fall, not wiping them away because he wanted to show Otabek how much he had hurt him. Otabek began to cry softly.

        “What can I do, Yura?” he mumbled. “What can I do to make this better? I want to make this better.”

        Yuri sobbed louder.

        “Just make me feel... okay again, just...” Yuri trailed off, his voice raw. Otabek got out of his seat and went to stand by Yuri, but he paused before he put his arms around him.

        “Can I… can I hold you?” Otabek asked, bracing himself. 

        Yuri responded by leaning his head into Otabek’s chest and wept. Otabek took a deep breath and wrapped his arms around him and pulled him closer. Yuri gripped the sides of Otabek’s shirt, not quite hugging him, but it was close. 

        Otabek held him there for a moment until Yuri’s crying subsided, and then he gently took him by his hands and led him to the couch. Yuri sat down unsteadily, and when Otabek sat down beside him, Yuri collapsed onto Otabek, throwing his arms around him and burying his face into his neck. Otabek threaded one arm around Yuri’s waist and held his tight to him, and with the other he stroked Yuri’s hair softly and spoke quietly as Yuri shook with tears.

        “Shhh… Yura, you’re okay. It’s okay Yura, you’re going to be okay…” he murmured into Yuri’s hair. They sat this way for a while, Yuri hiding his face and Otabek holding on to him and whispering into his ear. His lips brushed over Yuri’s hair but he tried not to cross a line by kissing him, even though he wanted to until Yuri forgot how he was hurting, how much Otabek had hurt him… Otabek shut his eyes and tried to ignore the guilt gnawing in his stomach. 

        Yuri shifted and Otabek lifted up his arms so Yuri could slowly untangle himself and sit up. He lifted his head to look at Otabek, his eyes still full of tears that were slowly falling out of the corners of his eyes. Otabek’s heart shattered all over again.

        “I’m so sorry, Yura,” Otabek repeated, clenching his jaw and knitting his eyebrows. “I don’t… I don’t know how to fix this.”

        Otabek began to cry again. Yuri just looked at him, with big, watery eyes. He didn’t say anything, but he reached out his hand and placed it on Otabek’s cheek. His thumb began to rub small circles on his skin and Otabek cried harder.

 _This isn’t right,_ Otabek thought, willing himself to stop. _I’m supposed to take care of Yuri, not the other way around. Yuri isn’t supposed to take care of me—_

        Yuri kissed him, and it was wet and his lips were warm and his nose was still red from crying. Otabek’s eyes widened for a moment before he closed them and sighed into Yuri’s mouth. 

        The kiss was gentle, but it was full of hurt and anger and all of the heartbreak they were both holding in their chests. Yuri opened his mouth and pressed his tongue against Otabek’s teeth until he parted them and let Yuri’s tongue slip inside. He moaned quietly into the kiss, his hands slid beneath the hem of Yuri’s shirt softly dragging his nails up Yuri’s back. One of Yuri’s hands cupped Otabek’s face, tracing the curve of his jaw, and the other was behind Otabek’s head, running his fingers through the short, buzzed hair of Otabek’s undercut.

        Yuri inhaled deeply and placed one hand on Otabek’s chest, pushing him backwards onto the couch. Otabek shifted so that he was on his back and his legs were up on the couch, and Yuri was suddenly on top of him, straddling him and lightly grinding himself into Otabek’s crotch and _oh god,_ Otabek exhaled sharply as he felt himself grow hard.

        They continued to make out on the couch, Yuri rolling his hips on Otabek’s erection as his breath picked up, and Otabek could see the outline of Yuri’s dick in his grey sweatpants and it was so hot but it was moving so fast, and Yuri kept grinding and Otabek kept moaning Yuri’s name into his lips. 

        Otabek was keenly aware of everywhere that Yuri was touching him, running his hands up and down Otabek’s chest and lifting up his shirt to stroke with the dark hair that ran a trail from his stomach and dipped down below his jeans. Yuri’s hands were cold and he still smelled faintly like alcohol and when Otabek kissed his neck he licked off the tears that hadn’t quite dried on his throat. They were salty and it left a bad taste in Otabek’s mouth in more ways than one, but he kept pulling Yuri towards him because he was needy and he was desperate.

        Yuri continued to grind his hips on Otabek’s dick, which was now fully hard, and Otabek clenched his teeth and tried not to groan everytime Yuri lifted his hips. Otabek scraped his teeth on Yuri’s neck and bit down, a little harder than he should have, and Yuri hissed but continued to kiss Otabek’s ear and his cheek and his jaw. Neither of them had said a word since they started, but when Otabek’s lips moved downwards towards Yuri’s collarbone and Yuri started to remove his own shirt for better access, Otabek offered the word “bedroom?” and Yuri nodded before crashing into him again, kissing Otabek as he pulled him up and led them both towards Otabek’s bedroom. 

        They fumbled their way into the room, stepping out of their pants and tossing their t-shirts onto the floor with their lips still pressed together until they were both in just their boxers. Otabek sat down on the bed and parted his legs as Yuri slid in between them, pressing his erection into Otabek’s chest as Otabek tilted up his head to meet Yuri’s mouth. Otabek had his arms wrapped around Yuri’s waist, pulling Yuri closer so that he was thrusting himself against Otabek. Otabek snaked his hands back and gently palmed the front of Yuri’s boxers, and Yuri let out a small whine before placing his hand over Otabek’s.

        “No...” Yuri breathed into Otabek’s mouth, and Otabek froze, panicking because he knew, he _knew_ this was a bad idea. His head began to spin, even though Yuri was still kissing a trail from his mouth to his jaw to his ear, where he gently bit down, sending shivers down Otabek’s spine until he whispered in Otabek’s ear—  

        “Fuck me, Beka. I want you to fuck me.”

        Something hot flashed through Otabek’s stomach but before he had time to respond, Yuri was already taking off his underwear, his mouth latched onto Otabek’s neck. Otabek tried to wiggle out of his boxers, but Yuri gave them a quick yank and they fell, crumpled at Otabek’s feet. Yuri kissed Otabek and Otabek kissed Yuri back and reached one arm out to grasp at his bedside table until he was able to open a drawer and dig around until his fingers closed around a bottle of lube, which he quickly squeezed onto his fingers. Yuri had his hand on Otabek’s back, running his fingers up and down his spine, and it sent electricity through his body and into his brain and Otabek just wanted to be _inside_ Yuri; he couldn’t stand to wait any longer.

        Otabek started gently, just inserting one finger inside of Yuri but the way Yuri bucked against him and whimpered Otabek’s name made him impatient, so he put in a second, and then a third, reveling in the sounds they drew out of Yuri as he stuck each one in. He worked his fingers quickly to prep Yuri, and maybe he was still a little too tight but Otabek was tired of waiting and Yuri was whispering the words _fuck me, fuck me Beka, please fuck me already_ into his ear, his voice rough and raw and dripping with desperation. 

        Otabek removed his fingers and reached back into his drawer for a condom before tearing it open and rolling it over his aching cock, which was already leaking precome onto his stomach. Yuri pulled away and his eyes were hungry as he watched Otabek squeeze more lube onto his hand and massage it onto himself. Yuri looked up at Otabek and bit his lip, and that was enough to make Otabek growl and grab Yuri under his shoulders and position him over his dick that was screaming for release. 

        Yuri shifted his hips and inhaled sharply as Otabek pushed into him, slowly at first and then faster as he ignored the groans of discomfort from Yuri that quickly turned into moans of pleasure, and Otabek thrust his hips deeper and deeper until he hit a spot inside of Yuri that made him scream and bury his face into Otabek’s neck, panting and murmuring incoherently.

        Otabek felt a pressure building in his groin, so he fucked Yuri faster, placing one hand behind him on the bed for leverage and the other on Yuri’s hip to steady him. One of Yuri’s hands grasped the back of Otabek’s neck and the other was curled into a fist around his own cock, trying to jerk himself off to the motion of Otabek thrusting in and out of him, but not quite matching the rhythm. Otabek felt the pleasure increase and he knew he was going to come, but before he could say anything, he hit Yuri’s prostate again and he gasped, and Otabek felt Yuri clench around him and suddenly he was coming inside of Yuri with a low, agonized groan. 

        Otabek could see that Yuri was close as well by the way his face was flushed bright red and the way he was moaning _yes_ and _please_ and _beka_ , so he fucked him through his own orgasm until, a minute later Yuri choked out Otabek’s name and came all over his hand and onto Otabek’s chest. 

        It was over almost as quickly as it had begun. Yuri leaned his head into Otabek’s shoulder, and the two were panting as they tried to catch their breath. Yuri’s hair was in Otabek’s face and he smelled just like he remembered, like the stale air of a rink and leather ice skates and suddenly it was too much for Otabek. He looked at the mess between them and grew sick. He felt guilt and regret in the back of his throat, forming into a lump that made it hard to swallow. He couldn’t look at Yuri. 

        Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes and he tried to shake them away but he couldn’t stop them, and before long Otabek was crying. Yuri felt the tears drop from Otabek’s face onto his skin, so he sat up off of Otabek but still stayed straddling him. He reached out his hands to hold Otabek’s face and wipe away his tears, but Otabek turned his head away.

        “Beka?” Yuri asked, his voice hoarse and concerned. Otabek just shook his head and shifted so that Yuri was forced to move off of his lap. Yuri was forced to watch as Otabek mumbled something about taking a shower before getting up and closing the bathroom door behind him, leaving Yuri confused and empty and all alone, yet again.

—

        Otabek let the hot shower water run over him, and he tried to push the guilt from his mind as he scrubbed the salt and sweat and cum off of his body. He stayed in the shower longer than he needed, mostly because he didn’t want to face Yuri and hoped he had gone to sleep. Otabek thought that, maybe, if he stayed in the shower long enough, the metaphor would set in and he would be cleansed of the terrible things he had done that were replaying on loop in his mind.

        When he finally reentered the bedroom, he breathed a small sigh of relief when he saw that Yuri was fast asleep, curled up on the edge of his bed. Carefully, so as not to wake him, Otabek crawled into bed and laid down on the opposite side of the bed, trying to stay very still and not encroach on Yuri’s space. 

        Otabek’s body still buzzed from the places Yuri had touched him, and even though every fiber of his being was exhausted from the hours of sleep he had missed last night, his brain wouldn’t let him rest. Otabek put his hands over his face and groaned softly, cursing himself. He was confused because as much as he regretted getting swept up in the moment and having sex with Yuri who may or may not have still been mad at him (and Otabek wouldn’t blame him if he was), he had still enjoyed it, and he felt more than just pleasure. Otabek had felt relief and happiness, like his heart might burst from finally getting what he wanted.

        He was in love with Yuri, and he had known that for years. But what Yuri had said the night before was right: their timing had always been terrible. Like that time Otabek fell in love with a girl who lived in his apartment complex, only to find out Yuri had feelings for him. Or that other time when Otabek had gotten wine drunk alone and wanted to tell Yuri how much he was in love with him, how much he had loved him since they re-met in Barcelona, but he couldn’t get up the courage to press send, and the next morning when he woke up Yuri had called him to tell him excitedly all about a date he went on and how he thought JJ might just be the one. 

        But now, they were laying on the same bed, only a few feet apart, on the precipice of forgiveness and moving forward but Otabek couldn’t help but feel he had fucked it up again, just like he had done for years. Otabek turned so his body was facing away from Yuri and he willed himself into a fitful, dreamless sleep.

— 

        Yuri was stunned. He dropped his hands, staring at the bathroom door with confusion and anger. Otabek left him? Again? 

        Rage began to bubble under the surface of Yuri’s skin and he narrowed his eyes. His head began to spin and felt his hands sweating. He wiped them on the bed and he tried to breath but he couldn’t quite get enough air. Yuri wanted to bang on the bathroom door, yell at Otabek for leaving him alone _again_ , how fucking DARE he— 

        Yuri closed his eyes and took a deep, shaky breath and clenched his fists around the bedsheets. He counted his breathing, up to ten, which was a technique that he learned from Yuuri that helped him calm down when he began to spiral. Yuri’s anger management issues were far from resolved but… he was working on them, as much as he hated to admit it. 

        Yuri felt something in his stomach begin to unclench as his anger dissipated off of his skin and into the air. He put his fingers on his temples and sighed.

        That probably wasn’t the best idea, he thought to himself. Even though it had felt so good and he had gotten swept along in Otabek’s touch, which he could still feel on his arms and his chest… he had to admit that it wasn’t the wisest idea. In his experience, make-up sex had never resolved a conflict, even if it was named for just that reason.

        And Otabek had cried. If anyone was prone to crying after sex, it was Yuri, and he knew that about himself. Yuri had ended many a night, cold and alone and in a stranger's bed fighting back tears from something that looked a little like loneliness and felt a lot like regret. But Yuri had rarely seen Otabek cry, and Yuri felt guilty. What a hypocrite he was, fucking Otabek just minutes after yelling at him for the same thing. 

        Yuri laid down so that his back faced the middle of the bed, and closed his eyes. At that moment, Yuri realized that was grateful that Otabek wasn’t in the room, so that Yuri didn’t have to face him. He should probably apologize to Otabek, Yuri thought to himself. Even though was guilt gnawing at his insides, there was another feeling as well. The feeling of Otabek’s hands on his body, his breath on Yuri’s neck… it reminded Yuri of feelings he’d long since forgotten about, feelings he once held close to his heart. 

        Yuri opened his eyes again, looking around his best friend’s room. He didn’t want the weekend to end with them fighting. He wanted to go back to normal, but he knew that healing would take time and more importantly, things never went according to Yuri’s schedule. The two of them needed time, but more importantly, they needed to talk. The ball was in his court, Yuri thought, and it was up to him to forgive Otabek if he could find it in his heart. 

        Yuri quickly shut his eyes when he heard the bathroom door open, pretending to be asleep. He heard the bed creak quietly as Otabek crawled into the bed, positioning himself along the opposite edge. Yuri wished that he would just roll over and hold him, hold him like he had earlier. Eventually, Otabek’s breathing got quiet and steady, and Yuri peeked over his shoulder and watched Otabek’s shoulders relax as he drifted into sleep. Yuri sighed and turned over, wishing for sleep that wouldn’t come.

—

        When Otabek woke up, the room was still dark even though his phone told him that it was a little past noon. Otabek turned over to see that Yuri was still sleeping at the very edge of the bed, as far away from Otabek as physically possible, threatening to fall off the bed if he moved a muscle. Yuri shifted suddenly, turning to face Otabek, but his eyes were still closed. His blond hair fell in strands over his face and his hands were tucked under his chin, and Otabek thought how nice it would be if they were able to stay this way for a little longer before he woke up and there was more fighting and crying— 

        Yuri’s eyes opened sleepily to see Otabek watching him on his side. He began to smile lazily until the memories of the past few hours all came back to him at once and his mouth pressed into a line as he stared into Otabek’s dark eyes. He could smell the faint scent of Otabek’s shampoo and he wanted to scoot over and bury his face into Otabek’s chest and breathe him in. 

        Otabek spoke softly.

        “Want to go for a walk?” 

        Yuri paused for a moment, before nodding and getting out of bed. Otabek followed him, and soon enough the two of them were bundled in scarves and jackets and walking through the First President’s Park. It was an icy, grey day in Almaty, so not many people were out and about. Yuri and Otabek stayed silent for the most part, walking aimlessly past the fountain that wasn’t flowing because the pipes were too cold, eventually sitting down on a bench on the edge of the sidewalk.

        The two of them sat side by side, looking at the frozen fountain. Yuri’s breath fogged up in front of him so he tucked his face in his scarf and scowled.

        "Who’s fucking idea was it to go for a walk in the middle of winter?” 

        Otabek laughed a little, internally thanking Yuri for breaking the silence. He tilted his head and looked over at Yuri.

        “Um, I’m sorry about earlier,” he said, trying not to look away. “Not just leaving you alone again, but, ah… initiating it.”

        Yuri shrugged.

        “If anything, I initiated it, Beka,” he said, staring straight in front of him. Otabek took it as a good sign that Yuri used his nickname and so he kept going.

        “I realize how much I fucked up, and, um, I’m done making excuses for myself anymore. I understand if you, uh, don’t want to be friends anymore, and… if you don’t forgive me,” Otabek looked down at his hands. “I wouldn’t forgive myself, either.”

        Yuri turned his head to face Otabek, giving him a quizzical look. 

        “Beka, of course I’m going to forgive you.”

        “But… why?” Otabek couldn’t meet Yuri’s eye.

        “Has it ever occurred to you that you are worthy of forgiveness?”

        Otabek finally looked up and saw that Yuri was smiling; it was a small smile but he was smiling at Otabek with a little bit of pity and a lot of warmth. Tears began to well up in the corners of Otabek’s eyes as he stared at Yuri with disbelief.

        “You… you forgive me?”

        “Well, like, not this instant,” Yuri said. “I’m going to need time—”

        “Of course, as much as you need” Otabek stuttered.

        “—but I’ll be okay.” Yuri paused thoughtfully. “We’ll be okay.”

        “But how… how are you so sure? And… how do you know you can forgive me?” Otabek asked. Yuri placed a hand on Otabek’s knee and scooted closer, not quite touching but enough to send sparks through Otabek’s body. Yuri thought for a moment before he spoke. 

        “Beka, I told you. I’ve always loved you, and a part of me knows that you have always loved me, in some way or another. I can’t just cut you out of my life. You’re too important to me, and I don’t want us to hurt each other anymore. So the only choice I have is to forgive you, and eventually move on from it.” Yuri looked wistful. “And all that means we’re going to be okay.” 

        “And who knows,” he continued. “We might even be able to, like, grow from this. Maybe you and I will finally learn how to, ah... time things correctly, for once.”

        Otabek’s eyes widened. 

        “Like, there’s a future? For us? Us, us?”

        “That wasn’t English, Beka,” Yuri scoffed. “But yes. I mean, I’d like that.” 

        Otabek looked at Yuri incredulously before shaking his head with a smile

        “Who would have thought that you would be the one to talk me down, huh?” he said. Yuri grinned back.

        “Well, I mean, I still need time to figure out things with JJ… and by that I mean I need some time to get over him,” Yuri said nonchalantly.

        “As much time as you need, Yura,” Otabek repeated with as much assurance as he could. Yuri suddenly looked at him sharply.

        “But no more hiding shit from me, ok? That wasn’t fucking cool, and you of all people know how long it takes me to trust someone. Don’t fucking break it again.”

        Otabek placed his hand over Yuri’s on his knee and gave it a squeeze.

        “Promise. No more hiding shit. Especially important shit.”

        Yuri removed his hand from Otabek’s knee gently and stood up, stretching. 

        “Let’s head back. It’s too fucking cold out here and I’m hungry. I didn’t eat breakfast.”

        Otabek scoffed and stood up too. He paused for a second, and then reached out to lace his gloved fingers through Yuri’s. He looked up at Yuri, expectantly.

        “Is this okay?” Otabek whispered. Yuri smiled warmly.

        “Yeah, this is okay.” 

        The two walked back to the apartment holding hands.

        Healing was hard, and healing would take time, Otabek thought to himself. But he had Yuri, and he had plenty of time. And that meant they were going to be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading and more importantly thank you for letting me do terrible things to my bbys in the name of art  
> \--  
> Thank you to my friend @icyhotexplosions for the edits, the beta, and for talking to me on the phone for hours even though we live in the same city.  
> \--  
> Find me on twitter @phichithamsters :)


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